


The Mire of Remembrance

by fluff_bomb



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluff_bomb/pseuds/fluff_bomb
Summary: An introspective look at the moments that have shaped the last full blood Uchiha
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	The Mire of Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the included fan artworks.

A moment of great significance feels like any other when it is being lived and what can be said for the moment that comes before and the moment that comes after? Are they too not crucial times? And perhaps it is these moments both before and after that truly the most important things occur.

These moments are rife with tension, the air thick with suspense and bitter with the sense of foreboding.

But take for instance the man who stands upon a lonely patch of dirt in a soggy mire faced by the silhouettes of his opponents. He is by far outnumbered and though the man does not stand proudly; nor does he slouch as though condemned. He merely stands with the countenance of a man on a windy marsh yet miles still from home. His coat billows around him but his sword is unrestricted. In this predawn of battle, it seems clear how things will end but would the perception change if the man was known? And in the moment after this battle has transpired, when the man wipes his sword on the blood-soaked clothes of his fallen foe, what then will the moment be? To the men dead upon the ground, this is not a moment, for they have transcended time and walk as spectral beings toward a plane as yet unknown; but to the man? This moment joins the many others like it.

What of this man who would be so blasé about death? If such an instance does not move him then what was the last that did?

Was it when he sat upon the ground swaddled by a coat of night decorated with clouds the shade of blood? Was it as he clung to it and buried his face within its fold to hide his tears and shame? Was this the moment he wished not only for a chance to change the past but a chance to change his mind. A most beloved brother wiped from the earth long ago and yet the slightest scent of smoke and sweat still clings to the inside. In the years which follow the coat will become old and worn, the cotton threadbare along the seams where it has been rubbed and stroked. The next most significant moment for the coat will be the second before the cotton string disintegrates and the seams begin to unravel.

And what of all the moments that came before and of the moments that might come after?

> “Life ... is a tale  
>  Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,  
>  Signifying nothing.”  
>  ― William Shakespeare, Macbeth


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